


Summer in the White House

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:16:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: "...and, with three hundred thirty-three electoral college votes, John Logan Wright, Jr. becomes the next President of the United States!"





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I probably could've posted this to my "Hundred Lifetimes" series, but I see this turning into an absolute monster of a fic.

_“…and, with three hundred thirty-three electoral college votes, John Logan Wright, Jr. becomes the next President of the United States!”_

Logan’s not sure how to feel. He hears Michelle shriek happily, feels her move away as she hugs the _next President of the United States_. There’s a loud outcry of cheering, an explosion of confetti from somewhere over the crowded room. He doesn’t quite know how to feel himself — pleased, he supposes? Excited?

Terrified?

It’s all a bit of a blur.

He watches, the picture of a dutiful son, as the Senator — the future _President_ — accepts his congratulations, as he takes the concession phone call from his opponent, as he strides across the stage to deliver his acceptance speech. There’s an odd, dull ringing in his ears, as he listens to his father make a dozen promises, as Michelle excitedly shakes Logan’s shoulder.

“He _won_ , Logan!” She says with delight, “We’re moving to the White House!”

They’re moving.

To the _White House_.

He knew this could be a possibility, of course. His father had sat him down over a year ago, before he announced his candidacy. Made it very clear what kind of changes would occur, should he actually win. Logan had agreed, with some reluctance, to take a leave of absence from his college studies during the campaign. But back then, it hadn’t quite seemed real.

Now, it is.

Logan isn’t expected to stay for much longer, after the announcement is made final. He’s pulled in to pose for a few photographs, smiles obediently at the camera as he stands beside his father. Before too long, though, he’s led outside by three Secret Service Agents, shoved rather unceremoniously into the backseat of a car with tinted windows and taken back to the New York City brownstone.

He can hear the dull chatter of newscasters on the television when he steps inside. Two heads pop up from the sofa, and Logan _finally_ relaxes as Julian and Derek grin at him.

“Holy _shit_ , dude,” Derek says, standing up and moving to hug Logan, “You’re the fucking _first kid_ now, you realize that? He’s going to be our _President_.”

“It’s weird, right? It feels weird.”

“It’s just gonna get weirder, I’m sure,” Derek claps him on the back, still grinning widely, “We’ve been saving the champagne for you, let me go grab it.”

He hurries off to the kitchen, and Logan turns to Julian. He smiling, too, though not quite as brightly as Derek. His face is a little more hesitant, a tad more careful. Logan holds out his hand, finally feels some semblance of calm when Julian takes it. Julian’s the one who closes the gap — steps close and brings his free hand to Logan’s face, his fingertips brushing against the blonde’s cheek.

“How are you?” He asks, soft enough that his voice won’t carry past this room, “ _Really_ , how are you?”

Nervous.

Scared.

Confused.

“…I wish you’d been there with me.”

Julian’s eyes soften. He leans even closer, until Logan can feel his breath on his neck.

“Just for the campaign, right? That was the deal? I lay low for the campaign, we keep _us_ quiet for now, and once he wins, we’re in the clear?”

“It’s bullshit,” Logan says, voice tinged with venom, “He touted around the _gay son_ card whenever it helped him, but he wouldn’t let me take my goddamn _boyfriend_ to campaign events.”

“I know you didn’t like it. I didn’t either. But I do understand where he was coming from. The kinds of things that can ruin actors lives…I get why he didn’t want to highlight the fact that his son was dating a celebrity.”

“Maybe it would’ve helped.”

“Maybe it would’ve hurt.”

“Julian—“

“I know,” Julian says softly, “But it’s over, now. We can be us again.”

“God,” Logan breathes, staring down at his boyfriend, “I missed _us_.”

He leans down, crosses those few inches of space to press his lips against Julian’s.

“…not to interrupt a _moment_ , here,” Derek’s voice calls from behind them, “But I want to celebrate this for at _least_ one drink before you two disappear into a bedroom.”

It’s with a significant amount of reluctance that Logan breaks the kiss. He leaves one hand against Julian’s hip, turns to Derek and takes the offered champagne flute. Julian takes his, next, and Derek dramatically holds the third glass aloft.

“To the next President of the United States,” he says, with all the formality required of such an occasion, “The absolutely colossal _asshole_ , John Logan Wright, Jr.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Logan mumbles, before downing his glass in one long sip. He sees the look Julian and Derek share, the way Julian shakes his head minutely before sipping at his own drink. Derek clears his throat a little awkwardly, pulls the empty glass from Logan’s hand.

“Do you want another?”

“No,” Logan says, pulling at his tie, “I’m kind of exhausted, actually. Kind of just wanna pass out, I think.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I actually have a PoliSci paper to finish. Maybe I’ll add something about your dad’s policies, at the end. Jules? You mind helping me clean up?”

Logan lets Julian pull away. He trudges up the stairs alone, ignoring the muffled conversation between the other two young men as they tidy up after themselves.

Pulling off his suit helps him breathe easier, if only just barely. He doesn’t bother hanging them back up, just leaves his jacket and tie thrown over a chair, his slacks pooled on the floor where he steps out of them. He climbs into bed in just his boxer-briefs, curls up onto his side and pulls the thick blankets over himself.

He isn’t sure how long his mind wanders for. Julian knocks softly against the door before letting himself in, shuts it behind himself and twists the lock. His own shirt joins Logan’s, but he leaves his pants on — soft sweats that Logan recognizes as his own — as he climbs into the bed beside him. He curls up behind Logan, wraps his arms around Logan’s waist and presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

“You want to talk about it?” He asks, softly, “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“I don’t know how to feel,” Logan admits, “It’s a _good_ thing, right? I should be happy.”

“You know I’d never tell you what you _should_ be feeling.”

“I just…everything’s going to change. We have to move. I’ll have Secret Service guys trailing me everywhere I go. I’m going to have to play the _obedient son_ for the next four years, at least. It’s just…”

“A lot,” Julian repeats, squeezing Logan’s waist, “You’re right, everything’s going to change. But you know what’s not changing?”

“Are you going to say something cheesy?”

“It doesn’t happen often, so appreciate it,” Julian says, and Logan can’t help but smile at the laughter in his voice, “I’m not changing. Derek’s not changing. We’re both still here for you. No matter what, okay?”

Logan slides his hand down, twines his fingers through Julian’s and holds as tight as he can, “Good. Because I think I’m gonna need it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ _I, John Logan Wright, Jr. do solemnly swear…”_

It’s cold, on the steps of the Capitol Building. Logan doesn’t switch positions, though, doesn’t move to button up his peacoat or tighten his scarf. The Oath is short, some 40-odd words. He can stand still for a few moments, can keep his gloved hands clasped in front of him and his eyes fixed on his father.

_“That I will faithfully execute…”_

Beside him, Michelle shivers a little. He feels for her, really — while he and his father are dressed in thick slacks and heavy coats, Michelle’s left to stand in a knee-length white dress, her own pale blue coat open to show off the stylish cut. They’d both been instructed to keep their faces soft and solemn, but she looks just as happy as always, beaming at her husband as he repeats the words of the Oath.

_“The office of President of the United States…”_

Logan’s used to the whole political show. He was born into it, spent half his childhood being trotted out to showcase his father as a _family man_ , until he grew too old and too temperamental to be controlled. Already though, it’s so much worse. He’d sat in his room this morning, watched as no less than four people debated which outfit to dress him in, which color would coordinate best and photograph well. As his hair had been combed, styled, and sprayed into place. They’d instructed him how to walk, stand, how to congratulate his father immediately following the Oath.

_“And will, to the best of my ability…”_

He’ll be a good President, Logan thinks. Hopes. Michelle will make a fantastic First Lady. Logan’s not so sure about how _he’ll_ do, in his new role. Half the Wright family already considers him a disappointment, what with his sexuality and problems at school. His father’s done his best to keep Logan out of the public eye these last few years, and now he’s being catapulted into the spotlight fast enough to send his mind reeling. He’s not so sure he can play this game, the way Johnny and Michelle can. Not sure he can keep up the act, how much he can hold back his real self for the next four years.

_“Preserve, protect, and defend…”_

There’s a good deal of choreographed celebration to get through today. A whole schedule of Inauguration Day events, of parades brunches and lunches all culminating in the Ball this evening. Logan’s expected to make appearances at all the more important events, to smile and wave and stand by his father’s side. The only event he’s actually looking forward to is the Ball tonight — he’d gotten a peek at the suit that had been picked out for Julian to wear only just this morning. It’s the only request he’d made for the day, to be allowed to dance with his boyfriend without worrying about what the _Republican base_ thinks.

_“The constitution of the United States…”_

This is it. Logan takes a deep breath, as his father finishes the Oath. As his fingers flex against the Bible — another show, of course, Logan can’t remember the last time is father had attended a church service — and his lips turn up in a small smile. As he repeats the last four words, as he becomes President of the United States of America.

_“So help me God…”_

Thunderous applause echoes across the National Mall. Johnny — the goddamn _President_ — takes a step backwards, reaches his hand out to take Michelle’s and kisses her knuckles as a thousand cameras flash. He reaches out for Logan, too, squeezes his shoulder for a moment before he and Michelle are ushered to their seats. The President is left alone on the precipice, eyes scanning across the crowd as he takes his position at the podium.

Logan doesn’t bother listening to the speech. Johnny had practiced it a half dozen times last night, rehearsed it again this morning as they sat in the car on the way to the Capitol Building. He could probably give the speech _himself_ , if prompted. It’s most nonsense, anyway, stuffed full of promises and platitudes, every sentence tinged with overwhelming patriotism. It’s cliche and sentimental, and the crowd eats it up.

Michelle pulls him to his feet as Johnny finishes his speech, as he waves pleasantly at the crowd and turns to leave with his picture-perfect family. It’s hard not to notice the flurry of activity around them, as they walk. There’s at least a half-dozen Agents around them, his father’s pick for Chief of Staff hurrying along and chattering quickly about things Logan doesn’t particularly care about.

“Hey,” Michelle whispers, with a light squeeze at Logan’s elbow, “Smile, darling. We’re almost to the car.”

He tries. It’s probably a little forced, but he’s sure _he_ won’t be the focus of any cameras right now. Not with the new President walking ahead of him, with the First Lady alongside him. They’re flanked by Secret Service agents anyway, and he’s not even sure he’s visible in the small cluster of suits.

Johnny pauses at the car door, holding a hand out to help Michelle in first. He slides in after her, with Logan bringing up the rear. The door closes, and all three Wrights let out a breath.

“Well,” Johnny says, reaching up to loosen his tie, “That went well, I think.”

“It was amazing,” Michelle gushes, squeezing his hand, “You’re going to be the best President ever, I just know it!”

He smiles at her, then turns to Logan, “How about you, son? How did you think it went?”

“Don’t know,” Logan shrugs, “Wasn’t really listening.”

“Oh don’t believe him,” Michelle says, “He laughed at your joke about economic growth, I heard him. I only hope _my_ speeches go over that well.”

“About that, Mickey, I looked over your proposal—”

“You told me to pick something I feel strongly about. That’s what I pick.”

“I’m a _Republican_.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t care about people.”

Logan leans forward, “Hang on, what are you doing, exactly?”

“I want to start a foundation to help LGBT youth,” Michelle says, her eyes focused, “Did you know there’s a disproportionate amount of LGBT-identifying teenagers in the homeless community? Or that schools and churches and even _medical facilities_ often discriminate against them?”

“…I did know that, actually.”

“Well it’s _awful_ ,” Michelle looks back to her husband, “It’s not fair, and I want to help fix it. This is what I’m picking.”

Johnny sighs, “Fine. I’ll let Martha know you decided.”

Michelle sits back, looking mildly smug, “Logan, darling, I thought maybe you’d like to help? I’d love to have a spokesperson for the foundation who actually identifies—”

“No offense,” Logan interrupts, “But I don’t think I’m really the best choice. I’ve been told I come off as _abrasive_.”

“We can fix that! We have public speaking coaches now!”

“Besides, I was really hoping to take some classes by correspondence,” Logan continues, “Work on music, a little. I’ll help out, if you need me to, but I’m not really looking to take on full time work right now.”

“Your boyfriend might be a good option,” Johnny says, barely glancing up from his phone, “He’s got experience in front of crowds and cameras.”

Logan’s hands curl into fists, “Sure. You ban him from the campaign trail, but the moment he’s _useful_ you decide you want him around.”

“Nobody _banned_ him, Logan,” the President says calmly, “We made a decision about the image we wanted to present.”

“Well I’m not letting you use Julian for political gain. He’s my boyfriend, not your pawn.”

Johnny glances up, looking annoyed, “You understand that politics is a game, correct? That if you ever want to run for office yourself, there’s a bit of showmanship that goes into it?”

“I said _no_ , dad.”

“We can work out the details later,” Michelle says quickly, trying to lighten the mood, “I still want to settle in, first. Michelle and Hillary said there’s a lot of unofficial First Lady things to do at the beginning — did you know I get to pick out new _china_?”

Logan slouches back in his seat, steadfastly refusing to meet his father’s eyes.

The rest of the day doesn’t go much better.

Johnny does great, of course — charms various Senators and Governors, gives a series of speeches and poses for photographs. But it’s so _much_ , and Logan’s so tired.

“What if we just…skipped the ball?” He asks that night, even as Julian straightens his tie, “We could go get food instead, I would literally kill a man for a cheeseburger right now.”

“They’re serving food there,” Julian reminds him, “Alcohol, too. Besides, this is the one thing _I’m_ allowed to go to. You know how much I like dances.”

“What if I just get trashed, then?”

Julian chuckles, stepping to the side to admire their side-by-side reflections in the mirror, “Wouldn’t that be a story. First openly gay son of a President getting absolutely hammered at the Inaugural Ball and gets a little too handsy with his very attractive celebrity boyfriend.”

“I never said I was going to get handsy.”

“Please,” Julian smoothes his own hair, “I know how I look in this. I know how _you_ get after four glasses of red wine.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Julian turns back to him, lightly taking his hand.

“…okay,” Logan sighs, “Let’s get this over with.”


	3. Chapter 3

_First Son John Logan Wright III dances with BOYFRIEND at Inaugural Ball_

 

_Openly gay son of President Wright brings celebrity heartthrob as date to White House dinner_

 

_Friendly reminder that the President’s son is dating Julian Larson - yes, THAT Julian Larson_

 

_Seventeen Adorable Pictures of Power Couple Logan Wright and Julian Larson!_

 

Logan can’t help but chuckle, as he scans through the headlines. It isn’t the first time he’s wound up in the news, of course — his expulsion had actually been leaked to the press during the campaign cycle, causing a minor crisis in the Wright camp. He’d been outed in the press years ago, when he’d been identified in a photo taken at a gay club. Even his relationship with Julian hadn’t been a secret; although they hadn’t _officially_ made their relationship public, the paparazzi had fueled enough rumors with their blurry snapshots of the two holding hands while shopping on Rodeo Drive.

“What’s it like?” He asks, turning to Julian, “To be the _less_ famous person in this relationship?”

Julian’s reading over his shoulder, his brow furrowed, “Fucking weird. _Celebrity heartthrob_ , really? I have a name, for godssake.”

“They got some good shots of us, though,” Logan pulls up his favorite, a picture of them dancing together at the Ball, Julian’s head thrown back as he laughs, “Would it be weird if I printed this one?”

“I set it as my phone background already. That is _totally_ my angle.”

Logan rolls his eyes, “Don’t think my dad had much to worry about. Looks like everyone _loves_ that you’re my boyfriend.”

“Just don’t read the comments, alright? The 'just a publicity stunt' ones are the nicer critiques.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Logan shuts the lid of his laptop, leaning over Julian to set it on the nightstand.

He’s settled into the White House pretty well, he thinks. The Residence is calmer than he thought it would be. The family and a small handful of aides are the only ones allowed in, and Michelle had set a _very_ strict rule about making their small section of the House a no-shop-talk zone. It’s oddly private, really, and Logan’s already figured out how to effectively exit the house without running into the staff.

The constant security presence though, is a little odd.

“Did I tell you about the codenames?” Logan asks, winding one arm lazily around Julian’s waist, “The Secret Service ones?”

“Am I _allowed_ to know?”

Logan shrugs, “They’re not really secret, I don’t think. I think it’s more for tradition than anything else. I’m _Silver_ , apparently.”

“That’s not a bad one.”

“Michelle got _Sunshine_.”

“Aww,” Julian grins, snuggling closer, “That’s adorable. Very fitting, too. What’s your dad?”

Logan smirks, “ _Sidewinder_.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It's a type of snake. Some type of rattler, I think.”

“Oh my god. They don’t like him, do they?”

“He took it as a compliment. That he was cunning, or something.”

“Is it weird, though?” Julian asks, “Having them around all the time? I mean, my mom got me _one_ bodyguard after the Art Hall and I hated it.”

“It’s…different. They’re good at staying out of the way, mostly, but I have to let them know whenever I plan on leaving. They have to do all this preparation before hand, alert every place I plan on going. It’s a little obnoxious.”

Julian’s quiet, for a moment. When he speaks again, it’s with that odd, deceptive tone that always means he’s hiding something.

“So like…is this the kind of thing you want, one day?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, “To be President?”

“I mean, it’s kind of what your family wants, right? For you to continue the Wright political legacy.”

“I guess,” Logan drops a kiss to Julian’s shoulder, “I don’t know, yet. Maybe.”

“What would that mean, then? For us?”

The way he says it makes Logan pause. He looks down, frowning, “What do you mean, for us?”

“Not to quote Legally Blonde or anything, but your family would want you to marry a Jackie, and I’m _definitely_ more of a Marilyn.”

“You’re a _Julian_ , actually," Logan says, a little confused by this sudden turn in the conversation, "I'm sure you've noticed that I'm not into Jackies  _or_ Marilyns."

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not making my romantic decisions based on what’ll poll well. I love you, and I want to be with you. If that keeps me from being a politician one day, I’ll figure something else out.”

“But if it’s what you want, and being with me ruins all that—”

“Don’t,” Logan says sternly, “I don’t _know_ what I want yet, okay? With careers, at least. What I do know is that I want _you_.”

“I just—”

“Stop it. We’ve been over this.”

Julian sighs, “I know. It just feels different, now. With your dad being President and all.”

“Well,” Logan slides one hand down Julian’s arm, wrapping his fingers around his boyfriend’s wrist, “If you want to talk about the future…you still haven’t asked me to be your Oscars date. It’s in a couple weeks, so I should probably start looking for a suit.”

“Are you even  _allowed_ to go?”

Logan shrugs, “If the Trump kids could jet off to China to make business deals, I don't see why I can’t go to one awards show with my boyfriend. That is, if he actually wants me there.”

“Of course I want you there.”

“Well you haven’t _asked_.”

Julian rolls his eyes, “Will you please be my date to the Academy Awards?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t really sound like you mean it.”

Julian pulls away, and Logan whines a little at the loss of contact. But his boyfriend only reaches for the bag he’d thrown beside the bed, pulling out a sleek black envelope tied with a bow.

“You want a formal invitation?” He asks, tossing it into Logan’s lap, “Here. You really think I would’ve brought that all the way here if I didn’t want you with me?”

Logan can’t help but smile, turning the invitation over in his hands, “Think they’ll still post pictures referring to you as _teen heartthrob_?”

“Oh my god, I hate you. Give that back, I’m taking Derek instead.”

He reaches for the envelope, but Logan extends his arm to the side, holding it well out of reach, “No, I wanna go. You’re nominated for _two awards_. That’s gotta be a record, right?”

“No,” Julian says, sounding almost sulky, “I’m the twelfth person to get two noms in one year.”

“Well has anyone _won_ twice in one year?”

Julian frowns, “I don’t think so?”

“So you could still be the first.”

“You think?”

“You know I think you’re the most talented person in the world.”

“You know _I_ think you’re full of shit.”

“Julian,” Logan reaches for his boyfriends hand, squeezing slightly, “I want to go. I want to be all supportive and shit, and I want to be able to watch in person when you thank me in your acceptance speech.”

"And you'll comfort me if I lose?"

"I'll give you all the condolence orgasms," Logan promises, "Blow your mind until you forget what an Oscar even  _is_."

"Alright then," Julian leans his head against Logan's chest, "Guess I'm taking the  _first son_ as my date."


	4. Chapter 4

Logan’s trip to Los Angeles takes a lot more planning than he would've liked.

He doesn’t have to deal with any of the logistics of getting there himself, thankfully. He just mentions the trip to one of the family’s new assistants, Jocelyn, who arranges for the plane and security detail to follow him across the country. Julian takes care of Logan’s outfit for the night, no doubt requesting something that will perfectly coordinate with his own outfit.

The ceremony itself is about what he expected. The barrage of flashes that start the moment they step from the limo is nearly blinding, but Julian’s arm is steady in his, keeping him grounded as they walk the red carpet together. (He's aware of the two Secret Service agents trailing them, of course, but he does his best to ignore that little detail.) Logan half expected Julian to push him aside for the photos, but instead Julian leans even _closer_ , winds an arm around Logan’s waist as he preens for the cameras.

It’s _nice_ , after so long on the campaign trail. After all of the posed photos and fake smiles. It’s nice to pose for pictures with Julian, to smile at the cameras because he’s genuinely _happy_ , not because he’s being poked in the ribs and hissed at to ‘ _look happy, goddamnit_ ’.

The pictures explode all over the internet, of course. As does Julian’s acceptance speech, in which he thanks ‘ _my super supportive boyfriend, Logan’_ just as the cameras cut to Logan’s proud, grinning face.

Dolce peers across the table at him the next morning. Logan does his best to ignore the judging look on her face — one he’s been subject to since Julian told his mother they were dating — and focuses instead on pouring a generous amount of syrup over his waffles. Julian’s the one who finally breaks the silence.

“Oh my god, mom,” he says, practically slamming his coffee mug down on the table, “You can’t _possibly_ still think he isn’t good enough for me. Sure, he doesn’t have his own Oscar, but he’s the _President’s son_. He’s pretty much more famous than either of us are.”

“Well that’s just the point, dear,” Dolce says patiently, refilling her mimosa, “All the magazines are talking about _you_ being _his_ boyfriend instead of the other way around.”

Julian blinks, “So first he wasn’t famous _enough_. Now he’s _too_ famous?”

“I just don’t want you to be known as someone’s _boytoy_ , darling.”

Logan snorts, then immediately shoves a forkful of food into his mouth to muffle the sound of his laughter. Julian glares sideways at him, then turns back to his mother.

“I _love_ him, mom. I’m not breaking up with him. So you’re going to have to learn to deal with it.”

He slouches in his seat, scoops his coffee back up and levels a look at Dolce, daring her to say something more. She merely sighs, glances back down at TMZ article open on her tablet and shrugs.

“Well,” she sighs, “At least he photographs well.”

Julian still looks annoyed, but Logan chooses to take it as a win.

Later, when Dolce’s run off for some interview and it’s just the two of them, Julian brings it up again.

“Does it bother you?” He asks, sliding into Logan’s lap, “That my mom’s kind of still weird about us dating?”

“I think she does it just to mess with me, now,” Logan says, winding his arms around Julian’s waist, “She’s gotten better. Besides, my dad isn’t much better.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Logan frowns, “My dad bothers you.”

“Sometimes. He — I don’t know. I hate thinking that he’s trying to convince you to break up with me to date someone else.”

“You know I don’t listen to what my dad says.”

“Still. It sucks. I’m sure it’s not fun hearing the same kind of thing from my mom.”

“I like that you always defend me, does that count?”

Julian smiles, “She’s just protective, you know? I think she really does actually like you. She helped me pick out your Christmas presents. That sweater? Her idea.”

“I love that sweater.”

“She said it’d bring out your eyes.”

“It totally does. And hey, at least she thinks I’m good-looking enough for you.”

“Well how could she _not_?” Julian smirks, leans in a little and kisses Logan softly, “You’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re a little biased.”

“Oh, like _you_ were when you said I’d win my Oscars?”

“You did, remember?”

“ _One_ of them.”

“Oh my god, don’t get all perfectionist on me now,” Logan groans, “You won an Oscar last night, you can’t get greedy because you didn’t get _two_."

“It would’ve been a _record_ ,” Julian says seriously, “Exactly the kind of thing I want to be known for.”

“If it helps, you _might_ be the first celebrity to date the President’s gay son.”

“Oh good, I can be famous for my sex life instead of my talent.”

“You’re impossible to please, you know that?” Logan tightens his grip on Julian’s waist, digs his fingers into the soft skin above his hips until Julian wriggles in his lap.

“Stop it,” Julian whines, “It _tickles_.”

Logan grins, “Hey, so I was thinking.”

“Never a good sign.”

“About you coming to stay with me for a while.”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “In DC?”

“Yes.”

“In the _White House_.”

“That is where I live now, yes.”

“I…I can’t,” Julian looks suitably guilty, “I just signed on for this new movie, and —”

“Jules. We’ve barely spent time together lately.”

“Well it wasn’t all _my_ fault! The campaign was most of it.”

“And it’s _over_ now. I just hoped maybe you’d want to take a little bit of a break. For us.”

“Well what about _you_?” Julian retorts, “You’re taking a break from school. You can’t really have a job of your own right now. Why can’t _you_ spend more time out _here_?”

“Because…” Logan flounders for a moment, “I’m not moving in with your _mother_.”

“Well isn’t that what I’d be doing? If I went to DC with you, I’d be living in the same house as your dad and Michelle.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?” Julian slides off his lap, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because if I moved out here, I’d just be stuck in this house all day while _you_ work!” Logan retorts, rising from his chair, “At least if you took a break and came to DC we’d get to see each other!”

“You don’t even _like_ DC! I thought you’d _want_ an excuse to get out of there.”

“Well I thought _you’d_ want to actually spend some goddamn time with your boyfriend.”

“Why is this all on _me_?” Julian spits, “How come _I’m_ the one who has to take a break from work and move across the country and live with _your_ parents and you don’t have to give up anything?”

“Because I’ve already given up _everything_!” Logan yells back, “I had to quit school and leave New York and ‘ _tone down the gay_ ’ for a goddamn year and pretend to be some perfect political son, and I just want my goddamn _boyfriend_ to act like I’m at least _kind of_ important!”

Julian freezes. His mouth falls open, and he blinks slowly, staring Logan’s way, “I didn’t…Logan…”

“You work all the goddamn time,” Logan continues, “You haven’t taken a vacation since you were _thirteen_. Excuse me for thinking you might want to take a tiny break once everything settled.”

He makes a move to storm out of the room, but Julian stops him with a hand on his arm. Logan’s still angry, and he tries to shake Julian off. Instead, though, Julian steps even closer, winding his arm around Logan’s waist and pulling him into a warm hug.

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” he says softly, “Of course I want to spend time with you. Why do you think I invited you out this weekend?”

“I want more than just a _weekend_ , Jules. We’ve been together since senior year and most of that has been long distance. It’d be nice to actually _be together_ for once.”

Julian pulls away slightly, biting at his lower lip, “I start filming on Tuesday, Lo. I don’t think I can just drop out this soon…”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. You know I’d never ask you to lose out on a role for me.”

“But it’s a short film schedule,” Julian continues, “And there was a thing after I was thinking about taking, but I don’t have to.”

“Jules—”

“I could get there around the time for the cherry blossom bloom. I saw it in Japan once and it was _beautiful_ , it’d be fun to see them in Washington too.”

He smiles softly, presses up on his toes to kiss Logan on the lips.

“You’re really going to come to DC?”

“I am,” Julian promises, “It’s gonna be super fucking weird living in the _White House_ , but I can make it work.”

Logan hesitates, “…only if you want to.”

“I do. I swear.”

“Well then,” Logan smiles, reaches up to tuck a stray curl behind Julian’s ear, “I guess you’re coming to DC.”


	5. Chapter 5

Logan didn’t expect Julian’s stay to be a whole _ordeal_. Maybe it was a pipe dream, that bringing his boyfriend to stay with them might be _easy_. Jocelyn’s eyes widen when he tells her Julian’s coming for a month, and she starts frantically tapping away on her phone.

“Oh god, we’ll have to make extra security arrangements. He’s already cleared for the Residence, of course, but the Secret Service detail…”

“Wait, is he getting his own detail?”

The woman sighs, “It’s not _protocol_ , technically. But with him being as high profile as he is, it might be better for him to have his own protection. Just while he’s here, of course.”

“Hang on, though,” Logan crosses his arms, now curious, “What would he have to do to get his own permanent detail?”

“We prefer to keep it strictly family of the President,” Jocelyn explains, “President, First Lady, their children. Any spouses or children _of_ their children.”

“So if Julian and I got married, he’d have his own Secret Service detail?”

The woman blinks at him, “Please. _Please_ don’t tell me you’re planning a wedding anytime soon. The amount of work I’d have to do for something like that…I need a year’s notice. At _least_.”

“Oh my god, we’re not getting married. We’re barely even adults, god. I was just curious.”

She’s still blinking at him, even as he turns and retreats to his room.

Logan thinks about what she’d said as he clears room in his closet. Dolce had hired a bodyguard for Julian, following the events of junior year. It’s not a permanent situation — the guy mostly tags along to major events, despite Dolce’s continued insistence that she’d feel better if he had constant protection. He knows Julian likes his freedom, but Logan has to admit that it’d make him feel better, too.

But if he had his own Secret Service detail…

He tries to shake off that thought, though. They’re still so young, and despite how sure Logan is about him, he knows they’re not really ready for something as big as _marriage._ (So what, if Logan thinks about them _married_ as he clears out a few dresser drawers for Julian’s clothes, it’s just his imagination running wild.)

Turns out, going to the airport _himself_ to pick up Julian is deemed too much of a security risk. Instead, one of their assistants leaves in a sleek black car, and Logan’s left to aimlessly pace the hallways as he waits. Michelle grins at him, as she leaves for an appointment of her own.

“Don’t be _nervous_ , darling,” she says, squeezing his shoulder, “It’s just _Julian_.”

It _is_ just Julian, of course, but that does nothing to settle Logan’s nerves. It doesn’t make sense, really. It’s not even the first time they’ve lived together — during Logan’s first year of college, Julian had taken a film role nearby and they’d moved into a nice apartment for a few months. Maybe it’s because it’s the _White House_ , or because he’s concerned that Julian might get bored living here for a month with no concrete plans to occupy his time. Maybe it’s that Julian’s also moving in with Johnny and Michelle, that he’ll be having breakfast with the whole damn Wright family everyday.

Maybe it’s because things _are_ getting a lot more serious, that living together even temporarily suddenly feels like such a huge step.

The moment he sets his eyes on Julian, though, all his nerves vanish. His boyfriend looks tired from the flight, but he _smiles_ , and Logan’s moving to him before he can even comprehend it. Julian sinks into the hug like he always does, slouches down just enough that he can tuck his head under Logan’s chin.

“You’re _here_ ,” Logan murmurs, pulling Julian close, “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up, apparently that would’ve required four Secret Service agents and three cars, or something.”

“It’s fine,” Julian says, burrowing even closer, “You smell good.”

“Are you just saying that because I’m the first thing that hasn’t smelled like airplane all day?”

“Maybe.”

Logan laughs, “Do you want lunch? I found a few restaurants around here that I think you’ll really like.”

“Not to be a total downer, but I’m kind of exhausted? We wrapped filming after midnight, and then I still had to pack, and I couldn’t get a direct flight so I had a layover in Chicago…”

“So how about we order in, instead?” Logan offers, “We can eat in my room. Cuddle. Watch some cheesy movies.”

Julian lets out a breathy laugh, “That sounds _perfect_.”

It’s probably the most relaxing day Logan’s had since this whole campaign started. He shouldn’t be surprised when Julian ignores his own suitcase of clothing and moves to Logan’s closet, pulling on an old hoodie and a raggedy pair of joggers. He looks right at home, slipping into Logan’s bed and looking up expectantly.

“Well? I was promised cuddles.”

Logan laughs, but he wants nothing more than to comply. He kicks off his shoes and crawls into bed, pulling Julian close and flipping on the tv resting on his dresser. They spend the whole afternoon like that, only moving from the bed to grab the delivery Logan had ordered on his phone. Mostly, though, they just snuggle close, Logan’s hand idly stroking up Julian’s arm.

“Surprised you haven’t fallen asleep on me yet,” he murmurs, “You look pretty exhausted.”

“I’m trying not to,” Julian admits, “Michelle’s gonna want to take us to dinner tonight, and if I pass out now I’m not waking up until morning. I can feel it.”

“Well I’m sure Michelle will appreciate it. But you can totally nap. I swear I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“But I want to _talk_ to you,” Julian whines, nuzzling against Logan’s neck, “I missed you.”

It’s almost overwhelming, how happy Logan feels at this very moment. With Julian in his arms, his head resting on Logan’s chest; it’s so _comfortable_ , so exactly what Logan wants to feel every single day.

He finds his mind going back to the whole _marriage_ topic — would it feel like this? Would being married mean he gets to have Julian in his bed like this every single day? That they’d get to do cheesy, domestic shit like this on a regular basis? Because he wants that, more than he can even begin to describe. He squeezes lightly at Julian’s waist, leans down to press a soft kiss to the top his head. Julian looks up with a soft smile.

“Hey,” Logan murmurs, “I love you.”

“Are you saying that because you actually love me?” Julian asks, raising one eyebrow, “Or is this one of those ‘ _I love you, but you smell like airplane and should totally shower_ ’ things?”

“Because I actually love you. Although now that you mention it…”

“Oh god, I knew it,” Julian groans, pulling away bending his neck to sniff at himself, “Oh my god I’m disgusting, I can’t believe you let me lay on top of you for so long.”

“We all make sacrifices for love.”

“Cheesy fuck,” Julian grumbles, stripping off his clothes and padding across the room to the ensuite bathroom. Logan’s more than half tempted to join him, but a very ill-timed knock on his door stops that plan right in its tracks.

Michelle’s holding one delicate, well-manicured hand over her eyes when Logan answers the door, “Logan, dear, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I was just making dinner reservations…”

“We’ll come,” Logan says patiently, “And you can uncover your eyes, he’s showering right now.”

“Oh, good,” she lets out a breath as she lowers her hand, “I didn’t _hear_ anything but I still hoped…”

“So dinner? What time?”

“Oh, seven. Julian likes Italian, right?”

“As long as he gets an endless stream of garlic bread, he’ll be happy. Is um…is dad gonna be there?”

“Oh no, dear, he’s much too busy. Just the three of us, if that’s alright with you?”

“More than alright,” Logan says, relieved, “I’ll let him know about dinner. Thanks.”

It’s a little amusing, the way Julian stresses out over an outfit for the dinner. He must try on a half dozen different shirts, discards all his own slacks and steals a pair of Logan’s instead. It takes him a good half-hour to arrange his hair the way he wants it, and then twists his tie between his fingers.

“Julian,” Logan says calmly, moving behind him and resting his hands on Julian’s shoulders, “You look amazing. As always. It’s just dinner with _Michelle_ , honestly.”

“Yeah, in _public._ Where we’re totally gonna be photographed, and I want to look good.”

“You do look good. Stop being ridiculous and let’s go already, alright?”

Julian grumbles as Logan takes his arm, but follows him out into the hall where Michelle’s waiting.

With John.

“…dad,” Logan says, his smile fading a little, “I thought…Michelle said you were busy.”

“The whole purpose of having a VP is to have someone take over for me at meeting, isn’t it? Besides, I’ve been told these — family — dinners are important.”

The look he shoots Julian on the word _family_ doesn’t go unnoticed, and Logan feels Julian stiffen beside him. He just wraps his arm around Julian’s waist, turning to Michelle with a smile.

“So. Are we ready, then?”

The dinner is a total disaster, of course. Logan had known it would be since finding out his _father_ would be there as well, but he doesn’t quite anticipate the sheer awkwardness of the night. Johnny almost immediately tries to start a conversation about politics with Julian, clearly ignoring Logan’s warning glares.

“Uh…no,” Julian says, laughing a little awkwardly, “I’m not really into politics myself. Kinda fell asleep in A.P. Government, most days.”

“Other celebrities have done it,” John offers, “Reagan. Schwarzenegger. Trump.”

“Not exactly what I see for myself.”

“So acting is what you want to stick with, then?”

“ _Dad_ ,” Logan hisses, just as Michelle flags down the waiter for more wine, “Would you stop with the interrogation?”

“I’m just making conversation. I mean, if you two plan on this going anywhere, I think it might be useful for him to have _some_ interest in politics.”

“Remember when you said you were gonna be cool about this?” Logan grits out, “When I agreed to keep my personal life under wraps for the campaign, as long as you left my relationship with Julian out of all this afterwards? That you’d let me make my own choices?”

“I’m only _saying —_ ”

“Johnny dear, drop it,” Michelle says, her voice sounding almost dangerous, “We’re here to have a nice family dinner with Julian and Logan, and nobody’s even enjoying this lovely bruschetta.”

The conversation finally, _thankfully,_ switches to tamer topics. Logan still feels the urge to flag down the waiter, to hold up his wine glass and wave him on to continue until it’s nearly overfilling. He can feel Julian shift closer as he sips at his glass, the warmth of Julian’s hand squeezing against his thigh.

“He’s a piece of _shit_ ,” Logan rants later, pacing across his room as Julian watches from the bed, “What if I just told everyone how awful he is? Spilt all his secrets to the _Times_ or the _Post_?”

“You’d regret it,” Julian says patiently, “It’d hurt Michelle. It’d hurt you. You’d feel better for a few minutes, maybe, but then you’d regret it.”

“The things he said to you—”

“Same stuff my mom said to _you,”_ Julian holds out a hand, gesturing for Logan to come closer. He lets himself be pulled down, perches on the edge of the mattress and leans against his boyfriend’s shoulder, “We knew this was gonna be hard. That people were gonna say stuff.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing it.”

“Hey,” Julian squeezes Logan’s hand, rests their foreheads together, “I love you, alright? And you love me, right?”

“You know I do.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. We’ll make it work. Fuck what anyone else says.”

“Yeah,” Logan almost smiles, “Fuck everyone else.”


	6. Chapter 6

Julian’s visit can’t last forever, of course.

Logan had asked for a month, and Julian had given him just over three weeks. It’s honestly a wonder his busy schedule had allowed for so much free time; Logan had been honestly surprised when Julian told him he hadn’t scheduled so much as a phone interview during their time together. They’d spent many a lazy day in bed together, had seen the cherry blossoms bloom just like Julian wanted.

But soon enough, he’s on a plane back to Los Angeles, and Logan’s left with his father. He doesn’t even have Michelle as a buffer anymore — she’s off on her own tour of the country, reading picture books at elementary schools and advocating for her husband’s policies.

Which leaves just the two of them. Two generations of _John Logan Wrights_ , shoved into one house together.

It would be fine, really, under normal circumstances. Logan’s used to ignoring his father, accustomed to pretending he doesn’t exist even as they share one roof. But ever since he became President, Johnny seems to be actively seeking Logan out.

It’s odd, it’s uncomfortable, and Logan doesn’t know what to make of it.

He sighs, when he’s once again summoned to his father’s office. The President barely even glances up when Logan enters, his eyes fixed on a thick stack of documents on his desk. Logan sits on one of the long, white couches across from him, waits for his father to address him.

It’s economics, today. New proposed tax hikes, a bill written by a coalition of Republican Senators. Logan sighs as he reads over it, gives his father his opinions, as usual.

As usual, Johnny shuts down his ideas.

“No, that’ll never work. The GOP will never approve something like that, not while so many of them are heavily bankrolled by large corporations.”

It’s not the harshest way Logan’s been dismissed, not by any means. But something about it just makes him _snap_. Maybe he’s just sick of Johnny asking his opinion and then shooting him down, maybe he’s just particularly irritable today because of the growing headache he’s nursing. Maybe he’s just sick of the whole political charade.

“Why the hell even _ask_ me?!” Logan yells, tossing the bill aside, “You always do this, you ask what I think and then you kill all my arguments, so what’s the goddamn _point_? Why even bother asking my opinion if you don’t even think I’m smart enough to have one?”

Johnny leans back in his chair, remarkably calm despite Logan’s outburst. He presses his fingers together, his elbows resting against the deep mahogany of his desk.

“Why on earth would I think you aren’t _smart enough_ to have an opinions?” He asks, one eyebrow raised, “You’re my son. I made sure you had the best education money could buy. Your professors had only positive things to say, before we pulled you from your courses.”

His demeanor is unsettling, and Logan’s not sure what to think, “Because…because you do _this_. You ask for my opinion, but the minute I say it you give me all the reasons it won’t work.”

“Because that’s what politics _is,_ ” John says, “Because no matter how brilliant your plan is, no matter how necessary it is, there will always be people fighting back just because they don’t agree with the political party you’ve affiliated yourself with.”

“So, what, this is your fucked-up idea of _helping_ me?”

“You are still interested in a career in politics, aren’t you?”

“I…I don’t know,” Logan falters, “I never really considered anything…I don’t think I’d like to make music a career. And I think I could be good at politics.”

“So do I.”

Logan blinks. He takes a step back, crosses his arms over his chest and looks critically at his father. The man doesn’t _appear_ to be joking, still has that same calm look on his face.

“…you’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all,” Johnny says, “I think you’re smart. I think you have the beginnings of what could be some very intriguing ideas. You’re very charismatic. A very good trait to have, in this field.”

“I’m sensing a _but_ , here.”

“ _But…_ ” the man continues, uncharacteristically patient, “You’re rash. Quick to anger. I understand, I’ve struggled with the same thing. You don’t think your actions through, Logan. You’re stubborn. If you want to survive politics, you’ll need to learn to listen to other people. To take their thoughts into account. To listen to them, if they’re rational, or learn to tune them out if they’re not.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Johnny’s quiet for a long while. He finally breaks eye contact, lowers his arms and shuffles the papers on his desk. When he does speak again, it’s quiet.

“Because I want you to be better than me.”

He sounds almost _defeated_ , and Logan’s stunned into silence.

“When I started my run,” Johnny continues, “I had a dozen campaign managers tell me it wasn’t viable. That I wasn’t _likable enough_. I had too muddy of a record, I had tense relationships with too many Senators and Representatives and ex-Presidents. I didn’t smile enough. I had a messy divorce to explain. I had a son who — ” Johnny pauses, “ — I had a son who had to be bribed to be in the same room as me.”

“…dad…”

“It’s my fault, I know that. But it’s all things that made this a lot more difficult for me. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“So what, your advice is that I be _more likable_?”

Johnny gives him a wry smile, “It’s not as painful as it sounds. Michelle helped a lot with that. I’d imagine Julian can help you.”

Logan scoffs, “You hate Julian. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“I don’t hate Julian.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I think…” Johnny hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully, “I think your relationship could make things more difficult for you, if you chose to campaign. And you already have so much working against you.”

“Like being _unlikeable_.”

“Like being in a high-profile relationship with a very famous actor. Like being gay — don’t look at me like that, you know this country is still decades behind. Like being my son. Republicans will hate you for being too liberal and Democrats will hate you for being a Wright. It’s a lot to handle, Logan. I want to make sure you’re prepared.”

“Sounds like you think it’s pretty hopeless for me, actually.”

“Not at all. Just very difficult. If it’s something you want, you’re going to have to start now.”

“How?”

“I’d like to include you more, if you’re willing,” Johnny says, “Obviously I can’t bring you into secured meetings, but there’s a good amount of unclassified work I wouldn’t mind getting your input on. Just for you to get a feel of the kind of work that this entails.”

It sounds awful, to be honest, working with his dad more. But he’s almost being _nice_ , and Logan _is_ curious about what kind of work passes across the President’s desk. There’s just one thing…

“And Julian? Do you expect me to break up with him?”

“I expect you to evaluate whether or not your relationship is going to be long-term. If it _is_ …you should start preparing him, too.”

“ _Preparing_ him? What, teaching him how to smile and wave and look pretty? He’s good at all that, thanks.”

“Preparing him for how difficult _his_ life will be, too. Your mother and I had a whole host of other problems, but I know campaigning didn’t help matters at all. Even Michelle hated it sometimes, and she’s…positive about everything. Always.”

“Sunshine,” Logan murmurs, the codename seeming particularly apt right now.

Johnny _smiles_ , “Yes. Like sunshine.”

Logan considers, for a moment. There’s a sharp knock on the door, and Johnny’s Chief of Staff pokes her head in, says something about a meeting with the Ambassador to the United Nations. Johnny nods at her, and she retreats.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Johnny says, clearing off his desk, “But if you’re interested in sitting here one day…I know I would have appreciated the opportunity.”

“Yeah. No it…it sounds good. Michelle will be happy we’re _bonding_ , or whatever.”

“She will.”

“You know _she’s_ what made you likable on the campaign trail, right? That people assumed that if someone as kind as her could marry you, you couldn’t be all bad.”

He means it to be cutting, one last cruel jab before he has to pretend to be _professional_ with him. But Johnny just _laughs_.

“Oh, I’m aware,” He stands, straightens his jacket and addressed the American flag pin on his lapel, “I’ll take a look at my schedule tonight and let you know when to stop by. I hope your professors were right about you being a good student. Have a good night, Logan."


	7. Chapter 7

It’s a little odd, that Logan spends more time with President John Wright than he ever had with the Senator. He supposes part of that is just proximity — with his break from school, living full-time in the White House, the chances of him running into his father have vastly increased. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would; he has ample free time to practice his music, and Michelle seems to really value his input on the organization she’s founding for at-risk LGBT youth. But then there’s the few times a week, where he’s summoned into the Oval, where John will start talking politics at him, actually _listen_ to his opinions. He claims he wants the perspective of the younger generation, but Logan’s knows John’s trying to lay the groundwork for a Kennedy-like political dynasty.

He’s sitting at his father’s desk, trying to absorb the latest information from the UN ambassador, when one of his father’s Secret Service agents ducks his head in and clears his throat.

“Sir,” he says, one finger pressed against his earpiece, listening, “You asked for notification when Sunshine entered the White House. She’s coming up the lawn now.”

It’s almost adorable, how Johnny’s posture changes. His shoulders relax, and the faintest trace of what could almost be called a smile graces his lips. He thanks the agent and quickly makes his way from the room, no doubt headed downstairs to greet the First Lady.

Logan just chuckles and moves to gather up the documents John had neglected.

“You picked a good name for her, you know,” he says to the agent, “He’s always a lot happier when Michelle’s here. Definitely Sunshine-y.”

The agent gives him a half-knowing smirk, “Actually, sir, I feel I should tell you that Summer has just arrived, as well.”

“Summer?” Logan frowns, “Who’s Summer?”

“New nickname,” the agent says, “We figured if Mr. Larson’s going to be a regular guest, he deserved one too.”

“Wait so he’s…Summer is…”

The documents fall back to the desk, and Logan imitates his father’s hasty exit.

He makes it to the Entrance Hall just as the doors are opening, and Michelle and Julian walk in together, both laughing lightly.

John immediately moves towards his wife, pulling her into a kiss. She giggles into it, playfully shoves at his chest.

“I’ve only been gone _two weeks_ ,” she says, “You can’t have missed me that much.”

Before he can respond, she looks over his shoulder, beams at Logan.

“Darling,” she sweeps over to him, drops a kiss on his cheek, “Look who I found out in California!”

“Hey,” Julian smiles at him, “Don’t I get a kiss, too?”

Logan barely lets him get the words out before he’s wrapping his arms around him, kissing him deeply. He tries to cram a month and a half of kisses they’ve missed into this one moment, but John’s already clearing his throat and Michelle’s giggling into her hand. He pulls back, just barely, presses his forehead to Julian’s temple.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he says, one hand lightly stroking Julian’s hip, “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until I flew out next month.”

“I missed you,” Julian replies, a small pout on his lips that he _knows_ always drives Logan crazy.

“I ran into him shopping in Beverly Hills,” Michelle says, excitedly, “He agreed to be the face of our newest campaign! I told him he just _had_ to clear his schedule and come back with me so we can work out the details.”

“Also I missed you,” Julian says again, leaning up to kiss Logan’s cheek, “You aren’t busy right now, are you?”

Logan glances back at his father, who checks his watch.

“We’ll put a pin in our discussion, Logan,” he says, “I have a meeting in ten.”

He fixes his jacket, lets Michelle straighten his tie, and heads out, followed by at least a half-dozen aides.

“I actually have an appointment to get to, too,” Michelle says, failing at not looking sly, “we probably won’t be back until late, so I hope you two can find something to do until then.”

She winks, pats Logan on the shoulder as she heads out.

“Oh my god,” Julian whispers, “Did the First Lady just basically tell me to get laid tonight?”

“She did,” Logan grins, slides a hand into Julian’s back pocket, “People respect her even more than dad, you know. It’s basically the same as an Executive Order.”

“Well then I guess I _have_ to.”

The trip upstairs takes twice as long as it should — Julian keeps leaning in for more kisses, and Logan’s absolutely incapable of turning him down. As they approach his bedroom, one of his personal Secret Service agents coughs, waits for Logan to look up.

“Will the two of you be in for the night, sir?”

“All night,” Julian answers first, grinning, “Maybe most of tomorrow, too, it really depends on how good his stamina is…”

Logan pushes him through the door, shoots a glare at the agent as he follows.

Julian heads straight to the bed, sits down and pats the mattress beside him with an inviting smirk.

“You’re gonna fuck me in the Oval one day, right?” He asks, as Logan bites at his neck, “Because not to be weird or anything, but that’s always kind of been a fantasy of mine.”

Logan pulls back, frowning a little, “Just to be clear, it’s not like a fucking-the-President fantasy, right? Just the idea of screwing in the Oval Office?”

“Ew, gross,” Julian makes a face, “You made this _weird_.”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“Could you please just stop talking and fuck me already?”

“Fine. But we’re totally clarifying this later.”

He surges down again, capturing Julian’s lips with his own. Julian’s clothes, as good as they look on, are always such a pain to get off. He struggles with the tight shirt, growls as he tugs at the skinny jeans. Julian laughs a little, kicking his legs to help out.

“I hate your clothes,” he spits, finally yanking the tight denim off.

“I’m just trying to look sexy for you, baby.”

Logan spends the next four hours showing his boyfriend just how much he appreciates it. He loves the noises Julian makes, how goddamn _vocal_ he is when Logan’s doing something right.

Julian’s usually pretty worn out, afterwards. Logan’s used to his boyfriend passing out post-sex, using Logan’s chest as a pillow. This time, though, Julian rolls onto his side, regarding Logan seriously.

“Oh god, this is where you tell me you _do_ have a President kink, isn’t it? I gotta tell you, I don’t think you’re my dad’s type.”

“Oh god, _ew_ ,” Julian makes a face, “I mean, if we were talking Barack or Beto I’d be all in, maybe.”

“…would you, though?”

“…would I fuck Obama?”

“No, god,” Logan rolls his eyes, “Would you be into the whole politician thing. Theoretically. If…maybe, I became one?”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “Did you decide, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve been working with my dad a lot, and I kind of like it? I mean, it’s really difficult, and stressful, but…I don’t know. I feel like it’s stuff that actually matters.”

Julian’s quiet, which makes Logan a little nervous.

“I know you’re not a huge fan of politics,” he continues, “I mean, you slept through most of AP Gov senior year. And I know that you’ve kind of hated this whole situation…”

“I hate it because we barely get to see each other,” Julian says, “Because we hide to hide things for a year while your dad campaigned. But if this is something you want, if you think you’ll be happy with it…we’d find a way to make it work.”

“That’s it? It’s that easy?”

Julian shrugs, “Why can’t it be?”

“You really think it’ll be _easy_ for a world-famous actor to date a politician?”

“I mean, the conflicting schedules would be a bitch to work through. I might have to focus on taking more serious roles, when you actually get elected to something. But I don’t see why we couldn’t make it work.”

“Julian — ”

“Look, I know it’s harder than that. I read all the news articles, alright? The comments section talking about how if you ever want to go into politics yourself, you need to ditch me and date someone who might actually be more…suitable. I know there’s expectations about this sort of thing, why do you think I agreed to do Michelle’s campaign?”

“Hang on,” Logan props himself up on one elbow, looking down at his boyfriend, “You signed on to be the face of her campaign because of _me_?”

“Because of _us_ ,” Julian corrects, “She asked me to just model a little, but I told her I wanted to be more involved. It’s not exactly _legislating_ , or anything, but I thought maybe it could make me look a little bit more…serious, I guess. Besides, it’s a good cause.”

Logan doesn’t know what to say.

“Logan? You’re not upset, right?”

“Of course not. I…I just can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Again. _Us_. I figured…we want this to work, long-term, right? We should probably start preparing for the future.”

Logan smiles, leans in and kisses Julian softly, “I love you. So damn much.”

“I love you, too. Now, about my whole Oval Office fantasy…”


	8. Chapter 8

Julian working for Michelle’s organization means he’s in DC more.

A _lot_ more.

Sometimes it’s for something simple, like a photoshoot. Other times, it’s for an event — a speech, a dinner, a gala. Julian shines.

Johnny seems impressed.

Michelle’s elated.

Logan’s proud.

“You’re good at his,” he tells Julian one day, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek after one of the events he’d been able to attend with him, “I can’t tell you how much this means to Michelle.”

“ _Just_ Michelle?” Julian turns, a soft pout on his lips.

“And me, of course. You wouldn’t be half-bad at politics yourself.”

Julian makes a face, “I’m an _actor_ , not a politician.”

“Didn’t stop Reagan. You have the charisma.”

“I don’t have the _patience_.”

Logan laughs, “You can help with my speeches, then.”

“That I could manage. Payback for all the times I’ve made you read through a script with me.”

“I don’t mind it. The love scenes are nice.”

“Only because you get to hear me say sappy shit I’d never say in real life.”

“You should hear the things you say when you’re drunk,” Logan grins, “Telling me how beautiful I am, how much you love me…”

“Oh god, stop.”

“Honestly the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Julian’s full-on blushing now, and Logan can’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing him softly. It makes Julian smile, and _that_ only makes Logan want to kiss him again.

Unfortunately, that’s right about the time they’re interrupted by Logan’s security detail clearing his throat.

“Sorry to break this up, Mr. Wright,” he says, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “But you have that meeting with in twenty minutes.”

Julian’s lower lip juts out a little, the tiniest of pouts, and Logan’s so tempted to say fuck his meeting and just stay here. But this is genuinely important to him — now that everything’s calmed down a little, he’s gotten his father’s blessing to re-start his studies. It requires an absurd amount of coordination, of course, with the Secret Service and publicists and dozens of White House staff. They’ve narrowed the best possible choices down to three — Harvard, Yale, and Georgetown — and Logan’s had to actually _schedule_ _a meeting_ with a handful of White House representatives and school representatives.

It’s somehow even more stressful than his original application process towards the end of high school.

“I know, I know,” Julian says, at Logan’s apologetic look, “You get to go listen to colleges fight over who gets to have you.”

“And my security detail talk about sitting in on my lectures and following me around to class.”

“At least you’ll be safe. I like knowing there’s a team of people protecting you.”

“Says the person who refused his own security detail after having a stalker who nearly _killed_ you,” Logan says, perhaps a bit too sternly.

“I have a bodyguard,” Julian argues, “Some of the time.”

“You should have one _all_ of the time.”

“Why?” Julian leans forward, rocks up on his toes until their noses brush, “I have my big strong boyfriend to take care of me.”

He kisses Logan before Logan can come up with a retort, smiles as he pulls away.

“Go be smart,” he says, patting Logan on the cheek, “We can’t both be the pretty one in this relationship.”

Logan’s _almost_ offended. But then his detail is pulling him away, and Julian’s shooting him a wink, and _fuck_ he really is so damn pretty.

His meeting goes much smoother than hoped.

The Secret Service has done most of the work already. They know the security concerns for each school, have already run sweeps of the political science and economics buildings on each campus. The other White House aides read off their own lists of pros and cons — notable alumni working in the political sector, privacy concerns, the ease of travel. There’s input from the schools themselves; they’d sent their actual _deans_ , all apparently incredibly hopeful to gain the First Son as a new student.

Logan’s a little surprised when they all turn to him, after. He’d half expected this decision to be made for him, for him to be a bystander as this room decided on his future.

But it seems they’re letting _him_ make the final choice.

It’s a bigger relief than he can express.

“So?” Julian asks over their dinner of Chinese take-out that night, “Who won? Derek guessed Harvard, since it’s where you were before. I guessed Yale, because it’d piss your father off.”

“Georgetown, actually.”

Julian looks surprised, “Really? Staying in D.C.?”

“It just made the most sense. I can still be here for the big events. See Michelle more. See _you_ more.”

“I would’ve traveled to Boston,” Julian tells him, “You know I would’ve.”

“There’s a lot of reasons. You were just one of them.”

Julian smiles softly, hands Logan the last egg roll, “We’re doing pretty okay at this, right?”

“I think so. I’m not gonna lie, I miss you like crazy when you’re in California. But we’re making it work.”

Julian shifts closer, winds one arm around Logan’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder. Logan sets the remaining food cartons aside, winds his own arms around his boyfriend.

He thinks, idly, about how much easier things might be, if they were different people. If Julian had a normal job, if Logan came from a normal family. If they didn’t both lead such busy lives. Every day could be like this, relaxing together in the comfort of Logan’s bedroom, eating dinner in bed and holding each other afterwards.

But then they wouldn’t be _them_.

He can’t fathom the idea of a Julian without acting, can’t imagine Julian happy doing anything else. Can’t picture himself doing anything else, either, now that he’s gotten an idea of his own future.

Sure, it’s difficult. He wishes they were closer, wishes it didn’t require a multi-hour flight to see each other. That he didn’t have to spend the majority of his nights alone, with only a good night text to go to bed with.

But that’s not their life.

And Logan’s not sure he’d want it to be.

He likes _this_ , despite their busy schedules. Likes how happy Julian gets whenever he snags a coveted role, how hard Julian works for every accolade. Likes the satisfaction he feels himself, any time his father takes one of his suggests seriously.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Julian murmurs, his face pressed into Logan’s chest, “I can hear it.”

“About you,” Logan says, softly, “Always.”

Julian makes a soft noise, shifting closer, “Please don’t make us one of those gross sappy couples that everyone hates.”

“Think we already are. Derek keeps commenting on my Instagram photos of you with _fuck you both_.”

Julian laughs, his voice fond, “What an idiot.”

“I was thinking about you, though,” Logan says, running his fingers across Julian’s arm, “I’m gonna be a lot busier once I start school. Should we do something before? Go on vacation somewhere, maybe?”

Julian looks up, an apologetic look on his face, “I start filming for _Nightwing_ next week.”

“For how long?”

“Four months, at least.”

Fuck.

“Where is it?”

“Few places,” Julian says, “Chicago. New York. Somewhere in Europe, for a couple weeks.”

“What if I came with you?”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “You want to follow me around on set? I thought you said it was boring watching me re-film the same scene over and over?”

“It kind of is,” Logan admits, “But I’d get to see you. I could get a head start on my reading for the semester while you work, and we could hang out after.”

“Will your dad let you? I thought you were busy working on projects with him.”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s cool with it or not,” Logan says firmly, “If I’m going to be totally tied up for five months straight, I want to spend a few weeks with you, first.”

Julian smiles, “Okay. I’ll give Carmen a call, see what the schedule looks like. I’ll have her make sure there’s time cleared for some dinners and stuff.”

He leans up, kisses Logan so sweetly his toes curl.

“I love you,” he says, and Logan can feel his heart swell in his chest, even after all these months together.

“I love you, too.”


	9. Chapter 9

Watching Julian work is _fascinating_.

Logan hadn’t been lying, when they talked about it — it does get boring sitting on set all day, watching the actors recite the exact same lines a thousand different ways, as the director examines each angle. But he’s also always so amazed at how completely Julian can immerse himself in a role, the way he seems to _vanish_ inside of the characters he plays.

It’s strange, watching Julian and not actually seeing _Julian_.

But then the director’s calling cut, and Julian’s turning to him, practically _skipping_ over. His smile is unmistakably _him_ , the twinkle in his eyes the most familiar thing Logan knows. He wraps his arms around Logan’s neck, leans in for the kiss he knows is coming.

“So how’d I do?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Perfect, as always,” Logan says, dropping a soft kiss to Julian’s lips, “You’re on lunch now?”

Julian nods, “I was thinking we could go get some pizza? I know you’re biased against deep dish, but I’m telling you if you just _try_ it…”

“Actually,” Logan interrupts, “I picked food up already. Figured we could eat in your trailer, maybe have a little extra time afterwards…”

He trails off, squeezing Julian’s hip to emphasize his point. Julian smirks, bounces a little on his toes and grabs Logan by the arm, calling out a hurried goodbye to his cast mates as the pair hurries off to his trailer.

Despite their excitement, Logan _does_ make sure Julian eats first. He has the tendency to forget to take care of himself when he gets too busy, and things like _food_ and _water_ and _sleep_ don’t always rise to the top of his to-do list. He’d specifically picked up food with actual vegetables, watches as Julian nibbles at stuffed mushrooms and roasted asparagus.

About halfway through his food, Julian sets the box aside, giving Logan a rather pointed look.

“You barely touched it,” Logan argues.

“I ate enough,” Julian says, pulling Logan’s food carton from his hands and setting it down, “I need to watch my calories if I want to keep these abs.”

He peels off his shirt, and _god_ he’s not wrong about those abs. His physical trainer has been working him hard the past few weeks, and Julian’s gone all out to keep his body in top shape. He’d been hot as hell before, of course, but _now_ he’s on a whole other level.

“See?” He says, clearly smug at the way Logan’s eyeing him, “Totally worth it.”

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Logan surges forward, pulling Julian into his lap. He slides up Logan’s thighs so easily, like it’s where he belongs. His hands slide under Logan’s shirt, and Logan shivers at the touch of cool hands on his skin.

“We have twenty minutes,” Julian says lowly, “Can you make that work?”

“You bet that perfect ass I can.”

It must be a record, how quickly he gets Julian out of his pants. How fast he manages to press Julian down onto the cushions beneath him, his legs spread wide. He moans so beautifully, kisses back so passionately. Logan _loves_ the way Julian’s legs squeeze around his waist, the way his fingernails dig into Logan’s shoulders, no doubt leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin.

He especially loves how relaxed Julian is after, the way he curls into Logan’s side and clings like he never intends on letting go.

“Good enough for you?” Logan asks, twisting a strand of Julian’s hair between his fingers.

“Perfect,” Julian says softly, happily, “As always.”

“Glad I could help.”

Logan knows they don’t have that much time, right now. He knows Julian’s going to be called back onto set soon, that there’s only a small handful of minutes left to just enjoy this.

He hadn’t been much of a cuddler, before Julian. Had never really been the type who enjoyed _spooning_ after. He likes his personal space, likes being able to keep his limbs free. But Julian has this tendency to just latch on, to wind his arms and legs around Logan like a particularly clingy starfish.

He doesn’t mind it so much.

“I should get back,” Julian says reluctantly, making no move to get up, “Before they come looking.”

“Or you could stay.”

“I really can’t,” Julian finally pulls himself up, reaches for the shirt that had somehow wound up on top of his lamp, “The sooner I get back, the sooner we finish. Sooner we can get to that concert.”

Logan frowns, wracking his brain for the plans he doesn’t remember making, “Concert?”

“That jazz band?” Julian tugs his shirt on, shimmies off of Logan’s lap to grab his jeans, “The one playing at that cafe, remember? You pointed out the poster a few days ago.”

“You hate jazz.”

“You don’t.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we actually go,” Logan props himself up on his elbows, “I was just _reading_ it.”

“Too late, I already reserved a table,” Julian pulls his jeans up, frowns a bit, “Are these yours?”

“Yep. Not the ones I wore today, though. You stole those last week.”

Julian frowns, peering down at them, “Huh. They’re comfy.”

“I know,” Logan says, a little dryly, “I liked them.”

“Well so do I.”

Julian grins, leans down and pecks Logan on the nose before darting out of his trailer.

“Love you!” He shouts, right before the door shuts.

Logan can’t help but smile as he stretches out, feels his bones shift when he raises his arms over his head. He pushes himself to his feet, reaches for his own discarded clothes and pulls them on. It’s a little uncomfortable, the slide of tight denim over his still-sensitive dick. But he’s got a few things to do before Julian gets off work — he needs to return Michelle’s phone call, wants to read another chapter or two of _Leviathan_ , try to come up with a good birthday present for Julian’s 20th coming up…

His internal to-do list is interrupted by the sound of shouting from outside, and Logan stiffens. It’s been long enough that Julian shouldn’t still be close, but he still hurries to the door, peers out.

It’s the two Secret Service agents that always trail him.

Between them is a frazzled looking teenager, held firmly in a headlock.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Stay where you are, Mr. Wright,” one of them calls out, “He was trying to get in the trailer. Protocol says…”

“What were you doing here?” Logan interrupts, eyeing the kid, “This is a closed set.”

“Holy shit,” the guy breathes, staring up at him, “You’re the boyfriend.”

“You’re here for Julian. Of course.”

“Is he in there?” The kid pops up on his toes, craning his neck even as he’s held back by Logan’s guards, “Can I see him? I’m his _biggest_ fan.”

“You realize, don’t you,” Logan says, slowly, “That his last _biggest fan_ almost killed him?”

“Oh,” the guy’s eyes go wide, “I’m not…I just want to get a picture with him.”

Logan sighs. He’s tried rationalizing with Julian’s more aggressive fans, to no avail. There’s no point in arguing with him, in trying to explain how monumentally fucked up it is to barge into a human being’s personal space without invitation.

“Get him out of here,” Logan orders, and one of the Secret Service agents pulls him away. The other one turns to Logan, a slightly strained look on his face.

“He needs to get better security,” he says, as if Logan doesn’t already know, “If you hadn’t been visiting, if h hadn’t had us here…”

“I know what could have happened, thank you.”

It’s a thought that’s given Logan nightmares for years, now. What might happen if Julian came into contact with another overzealous fan, what they might _do._

He’s been telling Julian to up his security. He has the means, has more than enough money to hire a security firm. But Julian complains each and every time it’s suggested, that he doesn’t like the idea of being constantly followed around.

But it would keep him _safe_.

Screw  _Leviathan_ , Logan thinks, he needs to figure out how to handle  _this_.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s not the first time Logan’s thought about it.

He’d mentioned it to Jocelyn, when she’d first started working for the family. Had asked mostly in passing, wondered what, exactly, the protocol would be for something like this.

They’ve talked about it, too. Not in the immediate sense. More of a hypothetical, year-in-the-future idle sort of wondering.

It’s just that _future_ might be coming a little sooner than originally planned.

Buying the ring is easy.

He shops around for few days, uses the time Julian’s stuck on set to wander around jewelry stores in search of one that feels right. Julian doesn’t wear a _ton_ of jewelry, usually, save for the colorful yarn bracelet Amanda had gifted them all a few years back. But Logan knows he prefers gold over silver, that anything too garish would just distract from Julian’s natural beauty.

He finds it in an antique shop, of all things. A delicate silver band, one small diamond framed by tiny amber stones, the same shade of golden brown as Julian’s eyes.

It’s perfect.

He’s smiling, when he tucks it into his pocket, shoving the tiny velvet box deep into his coat. He already has the reservations made, had convinced Julian to dress up for their dinner reservations tonight.

Under the guise of a final goodbye meal, of course.

Derek seems a little hesitant, when Logan calls to tell him.

“We’re still really young,” he says, “Are you sure you’re ready for something like this?”

“I’m sure,” Logan insists, “I know it’s what I want.”

“It just seems a little…rash, is all I’m saying.”

“Well it’s _not._ We’ve talked about it. The future. He took on Michelle’s campaign for us.”

“There’s not like, a set timeline for when to get _married_ ,” Derek argues, “It’s not a _oh, well we’ve been dating three years now, time for a ring_.”

“Casey broke up with you again, didn’t she?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“I’m asking him,” Logan says, firmly, “Tonight.”

It feels like the kind of thing he should be nervous for.

He is, a little. But not as much as he thought. He sings to himself, softly, as he gets dressed, as he fixes his hair, as he double and triple-checks his pocket for the ring.

Julian’s late, of course.

But he’d prepared for that.

By the time Julian slides into his seat, Logan’s already got two glasses of wine ready — sure, Logan’s got a few months to go and Julian’s only just turned twenty, but it’s amazing how quickly people look the other way when money’s involved — along with Julian’s favorite appetizer.

“You know me so well,” Julian says, smiling, as he takes a bite.

“‘course I do,” Logan slides Julian’s glass across the table, “How was work?”

“Same as ever. You done with your reading yet?”

“Close enough. I’ll finish on the plane back to D.C. this weekend.”

Julian pouts, “I can’t believe summer’s over already. I feel like we just got here.”

“I know,” Logan reaches across the table, taking Julian’s hand in his own, “We’ll make it work, though. There’s Thanksgiving. Christmas. Spring break. Next summer.”

“I promise I’ll visit whenever I can, too,” Julian says, “Bother you on long weekends. Crash on your couch when you’re supposed to be studying.”

“I think I could give you a better spot than my _couch_.”

Julian laughs, “I wasn’t gonna push my luck.”

“Columbia means I’m close enough to keep living in the Residence. My room is half full of your stuff already. Plus Michelle would probably love having you for family dinner even if I’m busy studying.”

“As long as your dad stops asking my opinion on trade sanctions and tax hikes.”

Logan grins, “I’ll talk to him.”

“Tell him he needs to be nicer,” Julian says, grinning despite his solemn tone, “I plan on sticking around for a while, after all.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, his hand drifting to his pocket, “About that, actually…”

Julian’s brows knit together, “That’s the kind of thing people way when they’re about to start a break-up speech. This better not be a fucking break-up speech, because I swear to god if you were stupid enough to do this in public I _will_ make a scene.”

“Oh my god, Julian, it’s not a break-up speech,” Logan says, rolling his eyes, “It’s the opposite, actually.”

He pulls the box from his pocket, sets it gingerly on the table beside their linked hands. He sees the way Julian’s eyes go wide, the way his mouth falls open as he stares down at the box.

“Logan,” he says, slowly, “What is that?”

Logan flips the box open, smiling at the soft gasp Julian makes when the ring catches the light, “A ring. Obviously.”

“I thought we were gonna wait?” Julian sounds a little breathless, his eyes fixed on the box, “You said you wanted to finish school first. I wanted to have my EGOT…”

“We can still do all that,” Logan says, “Us being together won’t stop that.”

He lifts the ring from the box, turns Julian’s hand over. Julian’s smiling, now, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs, “Holy shit, is this actually happening?”

“It is,” Logan tells him, “What’s the point in waiting anymore? Things would be so much easier if we were married.”

Julian’s smile wavers, and he tilts his head to one side, “Easier?”

“Is that a yes?”

“What do you mean by easier?” Julian slips his hand free of Logan’s grasp, “Is it not _easy_ now?”

“You know what I mean,” Logan reaches for his hand again, but Julian moves away, frowning.

“I don’t, actually. How would us getting married make things _easier_?”

“It just _would_.”

“But _how_?” Julian presses, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that I’m proposing to you and you’re not answering.”

“Because I want to know _why_. Why now, all of a sudden? Is there something wrong? Something you’re trying to fix by _proposing_?”

His voice is raised, a little. People are starting to stare.

“Damnit, Julian, I’m trying to keep you _safe_!”

In hindsight, it was clearly the wrong thing to say.

Julian goes still, across the table, his eyes unfocused.

“Look, Jules,” Logan says, at a lower volume, “I want to marry you, okay? I love you. I _know_ you’re it for me. And it doesn’t make sense putting it off when we both _know._ Not when there’s no reason to not do it. Not when us being married would mean you getting Secret Service protection.”

“So this is all about me getting bodyguards, then. Again.”

“You _need_ it, Julian. I know you think you’re invincible, but this shit keeps happening! Adam, then that guy who tried to break into your trailer…”

“He was a _kid_ ,” Julian says, lifting his eyes to Logan’s, “Fourteen. I have fans, Logan, and some of them get a little overzealous. It’s always going to happen.”

“Adam was a kid, too.”

“Stop saying his name.”

“I just want you _safe_ ,” Logan says, “You know it’ll help.”

Julian laughs. A cold, hollow sound, “Here I was thinking you just actually wanted to marry me.”

“I _do_. You know I do, I just…”

“Decided to rush it. So you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“That’s not what I…”

“No, you know what?” Julian shoves his chair backwards, stands up so quickly his wine glass teeters on the edge of the table, “How about I do you one better? You _don’t_ have to worry about me anymore, Logan. This is me officially making myself not your problem.”

Logan reaches for him, as he twists away, but Julian’s too fast for him. He’s storming through the restaurant before Logan can even stand up for his chair, more than a few sets of eyes following him curiously. The door swings shut behind him, and those eyes turn to Logan, next. He sighs, flags the waiter down for his bill.

He thought he’d leave here tonight an engaged man.

So why does it feel like he just got dumped, instead?


	11. Chapter 11

“You did _what_?” Derek yelps, loud enough that Logan has to yank the phone away from his ear, “You actually told him — Logan, you absolute _idiot_!”

“Yes, I’m aware I fucked up,” Logan says, rubbing at his temples, “But I called you for _advice_ , not to relive the whole shitshow.”

“You told him you proposed so he could have _bodyguards_ , Logan.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s a _perk_ , not the whole reason I did it.”

“But you realize that’s what Julian must’ve heard, right? _Hey, let’s get hitched real quick so I don’t have to worry about you being safe anymore_.”

“That’s not what I — ” Logan groans, ripping at his own hair, “I _want_ to marry him. I do.”

“But…?”

“But he’s not talking to me,” Logan says, “He must’ve blocked my number, it doesn’t even _ring_ when I call him anymore. I’ve tried messaging him on Twitter, on Instagram…I called _Dolce_ the other day.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me that if Julian’s not talking to me it’s clearly my fault, and I better find a way to fix it.”

“Well…”

“I _know_ , okay?” Logan spits out, frustrated, “But how the hell do I fix it if he won’t _talk_ to me?”

“You could always try making him talk,” Derek suggests, “The way you did last time?”

“I can’t just fly out to Los Angeles. I start classes _tomorrow_. I’d need to take my whole detail…it’s not as easy, anymore.”

“Do you want him back?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you’re not going to be able to just do whatever’s _easy_.”

Logan sighs, “I know. I just…I have no idea how to fix this. I don’t know why I even said it, it seemed like he was going to say yes anyway, it’s not like I needed to _convince_ him.”

“Pretty sure promising him a security detail he doesn’t want wouldn’t convince him anyway.”

“Do you have any _helpful_ advice, or are you just going to be a dick?”

“Sometimes you need me to be a dick. Both of you, just to be clear.”

“Right. Well you’ve been helpful as always.”

Logan hangs up, throws his phone onto his bed and sighs. He knows it’s no use calling Julian again — he’s fantastic at holding grudges, likely won’t speak to Logan until he deems Logan punished enough.

He just hopes this isn’t _really_ the end, for them.

He knows break-up words when he hears them, has no doubt that it’s what Julian meant when he’d walked out of that restaurant. But he also knows that Julian _loves_ him, that he’d been about to take that ring, to agree to _marry_ Logan.

Surely he won’t let a moment of stupidity ruin all that.

Still, Logan knows how long Julian can stay angry for. Knows how Julian can react when he feels slighted, when he’s had his feelings hurt. It might be easier, if Logan was in the dorms at Georgetown with the rest of the students — he could distract himself with getting to know the other students in his hall, with hanging pictures on his walls and unpacking his clothes. But he’s elected to remain at the Residence, mostly at the urge of Jocelyn and his security detail, to make the quick ten minute commute to his classes from the White House.

Rather than socializing with other twenty-somethings, Logan’s stuck in the White House.

Alone.

He sighs again, flings an arm over his eyes and makes a noise of frustration.

He’s so fucking _stupid_.

There’s a soft knock on his door, and Logan growls.

“I said I don’t want to be bothered,” he calls out, “I want to be _alone_.”

The door swings open regardless, and Logan looks up, irritated.

But it’s not Jocelyn standing at his door. Not his regular Secret Service agents. Not Michelle. Not Johnny.

“…Jules,” Logan breathes, pushing himself off the bed, “You’re…I thought you were still filming?”

“I am,” Julian says, not budging from the doorway, “I have a flight out of here in five hours. Figured we should talk in person, though.”

“You could’ve answered one of my calls to let me know that’s what you wanted.”

“I was a little too mad,” Julian says, folding his arms over his chest, “As I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Look, Julian…”

“I’m hiring a bodyguard,” Julian continues, not meeting Logan’s eyes, “So congratulations. You don’t have to marry me anymore. I’m sure that’s a huge burden off your shoulders.”

“Julian, that’s not what I…”

“I just wish you would’ve _asked_ ,” Julian interrupts, “If you’d told me it was that important to you…I would’ve done it, alright? You didn’t have to try to trap me with a proposal just so I’d get Secret Service protection.”

“Fucking hell, Julian, I wasn’t trying to _trap_ you!” Logan takes a step forward, freezes when Julian backs away, “You have to know that, right? I _want_ to be with you.”

“You know what the worst thing is?” Julian says, “The worst thing is that when you pulled out that ring…it’s how _right_ it all felt. How badly I wanted to say yes.”

“So say it, then,” Logan moves closer, “I still have the ring. Marry me, Julian. I _want_ to do this. I know I said some things I shouldn’t have but I still…I love you. And I want to be with you.”

He’s close enough now he can see the unshed tears in Julian’s eyes, the way he’s trembling just slightly, “I just…I think it’s not really a good time. For that. For us.”

“…what are you talking about, Julian?”

Julian takes a breath, “I think…I think we should take a break, for a while. Figure out if this is actually something we both still want.”

“I _do_ want this, Julian,” Logan insists, reaching for him, “You have to believe me.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

Logan feels like he’s been punched, “You don’t…are you saying you don’t love me anymore?”

“Of course I do. I’ll always love you, Logan, I just…” Julian brings a hand to his face, wipes at his tears before they’ve even pooled on his eyelashes, “I don’t want it like _this_. I don’t want a relationship where you make choices without talking to me first.”

“So I won’t, Julian. It was a _mistake_.”

“It was a pretty big one.”

“I know, Julian, and I won’t — I’ll never do something like that again. I swear.”

“I just need some time,” Julian says, “I don’t know how long. But I think it’ll be good for us both. You can focus on school. We can both…figure things out.”

“Don’t do this, Jules.”

"You can tell Michelle I'll still do her campaign, obviously. I promised. And we can still  _talk_ , I just - "

A tear finally breaks loose, rolling down Julian’s face. Logan wants so desperately to reach out, to wipe it away and pull Julian close. But it’s like he’s rooted to the floor, frozen in place by what Julian’s saying.

“It’s a beautiful ring,” Julian chokes out, his voice cracking, “I hope I get to wear it one day.”

“Julian — ”

But he’s already turning away, hurrying down the hallway, the stairs. It takes Logan a moment to stumble after him. By the time he’s reached the bottom of the staircase, Julian’s at the door, fleeing without a second glance. Logan wants to sink into the floor, wants to disappear, wants to travel back to the day he’d bought that goddamn ring and change _everything_.

But it’s too late.

A throat clears beside him, and the Secret Service agent watching the door gives him an almost pitying look as he speaks into his earpiece.

“Summer has left the White House.”


	12. Chapter 12

Logan isn’t quite sure what to do with himself anymore.

His first week of classes goes by in an odd sort of haze, and he’s not sure whether or not he actually manages to hold a coherent conversation with any of the other students.

He’s never been hit this hard by a break-up before. He barely eats, barely sleeps, only manages to drag himself to class because it’s something to _do_. Every day, he hopes he’ll get a text from Julian. Get _something_ from Julian.

Every day, he’s disappointed.

Logically, he _knows_ he could text first. But he also knows how intensely Julian can hold onto grudges, how much he hates talking about his feelings when he’s really upset.

Besides, Logan’s not sure what he would say to fix things. Not sure he _can_ fix things.

It only takes him nineteen days to crack.

 _Are we really not talking at all anymore_? He sends, then stares at his phone with baited breath. He’d expected Julian to be off filming something, to be too busy to check his messages. But barely a minute has passed when the read receipt switches from _delivered_ to _read_ , and Logan’s fingers clench around his phone.

_I’m not sure what you want to talk about._

Logan sighs, _I don’t want to not have you in my life_.

The next message takes a bit longer to come in, _I’m still here if you need me. You know that._

 _Do I?_ Logan starts, then deletes it, _I always need you. I hate this_.

The message shows as read, but Logan doesn’t get an answer.

It’s not until hours later, when Logan’s finally crawled into bed, that his phone lights up in the darkness.

_So do I._

The texts are sporadic, for a while. Light. Meaningless. Logan will complain about the students in his classes, the ones who suck up to him in hopes of getting a personal tour of the White House. Julian will send back photos of Sneakers or Sonic, anecdotes of the stupid things he’d seen on set.

It’s something.

But it’s not enough.

Logan’s heart almost skips a beat, the day his phone buzzes with an honest-to-god _phone call_.

“…Jules?”

“Hi,” Julian says, sounding a little odd, “Um…did you neglect to tell Michelle we broke up?”

Logan knows it’s the truth, but it still hurts like hell to hear those words come from Julian’s lips.

“…I didn’t really want to talk about it,” he says, slowly, “I knew she’d try to. Why?”

“I’m doing that thing, for her campaign next week. I just talked to her, to let her know when I was flying in. She said, and I quote, _Logan will be so excited to see you_.”

“Oh,” Logan inhales, “Yeah. She…I’ll talk to her. Sorry about that.”

“It’s just that, you know, if it makes her not want to work with me right now…I’d understand.”

“No, I’m sure…I’ll talk to her. It’ll be fine, Jules.”

“Thank you.”

Julian lapses into silence, and Logan’s next words spill from his lips without him really meaning them to.

“I am, you know.”

“…you’re what?”

“Excited. To see you. Unless you don’t want…”

“No,” Julian says quickly, “I mean I…I _do_.”

“Well. That’s…good, then.”

“I can’t…” Julian pauses, stutters, “I can’t stay in your room, though. I got a hotel. Nearby, but…”

“Oh,” Logan’s not sure why that disappoints him so much, “That’s…fine.”

“I just — I know I’ll do something stupid, if I let myself…so I can’t.”

“No, I get it.”

“Okay,” Julian’s quiet for another long moment, “I should get back to set. But I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye, Jules.”

“Bye, Logan.”

Logan’s not sure how long he stares down at his phone after the call disconnects. Long enough that the screen fades to black, that the sun outside his window begins to set.

It’s not until he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror that he sees the ghost of a smile across his face.

Michelle looks horrified, when Logan finally tells her. He leaves out the gory details, tells her it wasn’t really anyone’s fault, that they’re still friends — _they are, aren’t they?_ — and that Julian’s still committed to his work with her campaign.

Logan doesn’t see him, at first. His flight lands in the middle of Logan’s Economics lecture, and he’d seen Michelle’s schedule, knows Julian’s headed straight from the airport to an interview they’re participating in. He resists the urge to text Julian about his dinner plans. He doesn’t want to seem too desperate.

But when he returns to the Residence after classes, Julian’s there waiting.

Logan freezes in the doorway when he sees the familiar head bent over a pile of papers in his dining room. Julian looks up sharply, stares at Logan for a moment before smiling softly.

“Hi.”

“…hi.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Julian says, gesturing at the table, “Michelle had some stuff here she wanted to go over with me. Then she had food delivered, and _then_ she got dragged away for something…I thought maybe you’d want to eat dinner with me?”

“Yeah,” Logan says, his throat a little dry, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“It’s Japanese,” Julian says, even though Logan can clearly see the food spread across the table, “There’re a few things with shellfish, but I put them over here.”

He waves a hand at the plates shoved aside as Logan sits, and Logan can’t help but smile.

“Good to know you don’t want me _dead_ , at least,” he says, meaning it as a joke. But Julian doesn’t laugh.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, solemnly, “You do know that, right?”

“I know. You just don’t love me anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

Logan looks up, “You broke up with me, Julian.”

“Not because I don’t _love_ you.”

“What other reason is there to break up with someone?”

Julian blinks at him, “You _proposed_ , Logan.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I didn’t want to say no.”

Logan’s never felt so horribly lost in his life, “So you _wanted_ to marry me?”

“Of course I did.”

“But I proposed. And you said _no_.”

“Because it didn’t seem to…” Julian makes a noise of irritation, runs a hand through his hair, “You asking me to marry you — that meant _everything_ to me. And it didn’t seem to mean anything at all to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Julian leans forward, pushes away the plate he’d been half-picking at, “When you proposed, Logan, it felt like…like everything I ever wanted was happening all at once. Like you were offering me _everything_. But then you said the thing about the Secret Service, and _protecting_ me, and I realized it didn’t mean the same thing to you.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Logan says, reaching across the table for Julian’s hand and flinching when he pulls it away, “I _do_ want to marry you, Julian.”

“Because it makes sense to you. Because it’s _logical_. Not because you want to be with me.”

“Julian — ”

But Julian interrupts him.

“I _love_ you, Logan,” he says, “More than I should, probably. More than anything else in the whole world. Of course I want to marry you. More than _anything_. But I can’t — ”

He cuts himself off, presses the heels of his palms against his eyes the way he always does when he’s trying to stave off tears. Logan wants to reach for him, wants to comfort him. But he’s not sure Julian will let him.

“I can’t marry you,” Julian says, “I can’t be with you. Not if it doesn’t mean the same thing to you as it does to me.”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. Julian doesn’t bother wiping it away.

“Jules,” Logan says, softly, “Could you _please_ listen to me? Please let me explain?”

“Explain _what_ , Logan?”

“God _damnit_ , Jules, stop being so fucking stubborn for five goddamn minutes, would you?”

It’s a little harsh, but it gets Julian to shut up. He falls back in his chair, looks up at Logan expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Logan starts, “I’m fucking _sorry_ , okay? I shouldn’t have — the way I did it, the things I said — that’s not how it was supposed to go. Not at all. I didn’t want to marry you so you could be safe. I wanted to marry you because I want _you_.”

“Logan — ”

“No. It’s my turn,” Logan takes a deep breath, “I’ve known for so damn long. Since, I don’t know, three days after we got together? I knew that you were _it_ for me. That if I was ever going to be happy, was ever going to have a relationship that actually _stuck_ , it would be with you. I knew that I wanted to marry you one day. That it was only a matter of time.”

Julian doesn’t interrupt him, when he pauses. He’s just _staring_ , his expression indecipherable.

“It might have been something stupid that triggered it,” Logan admits, “And I should’ve talked to you first. About how much I worry about you. But when I decided to — it didn’t sound crazy, you know? Because I knew that’s where I wanted things to go anyway. I knew I wanted to marry you. Some day.”

He slides out of his chair, steps around the table and drops to his knees in front of Julian.

“I fucked up,” he says, “But please don’t end this because of that. I’m gonna fuck up a _lot_. But I’m not gonna stop loving you. I’m not gonna stop wanting to be with you. You’re _it_ for me, Jules, don’t you see?”

Julian’s next inhale is shaky, his eyes glistening.

“Wow,” he murmurs, his voice wavering, “If you’d said all _that_ , I probably would’ve said yes.”

“Probably?”

“Definitely.”

“But now?”

Logan reaches forward. Julian doesn’t pull his hands away this time.

“I don’t think we’re ready,” Julian admits, “We’re still young, you know? I _want_ to, I just…”

“Don’t see the rush?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I guess I didn’t really either, when I thought about it.”

Julian squeezes Logan’s hands, just slightly.

“So what now?” Logan asks.

“I don’t know,” Julian says, “I don’t like not being yours. You not being mine.”

“I’m yours, Jules. No matter what. And I’d really like to still be your boyfriend, if you’ll let me.”

Julian stares down at their linked hands for a moment.

“Can you hold onto that ring, though? I really liked it.”

Logan’s so relieved he actually _laughs_ , “You can have it, if you want. Wear it around your neck, or something. Have promise rings gone out of style yet?”

Julian smiles, “I’m not sure. But I don’t really care.”

“So that’s a yes, then? To getting back together?”

Julian nods, “That’s a yes.”

Logan _beams_ , leans upward for a kiss only to be pushed away by a very wide-eyed Julian.

“I had crab,” Julian says quickly, “I was worried that I’d take one look at you and wouldn’t be able to help myself. I had to stop myself.”

Logan changes direction, presses his lips to Julian’s temple, instead.

“Will you stay?”

“Of course I’ll stay.”


	13. Chapter 13

Julian’s visibly disappointed when Logan’s _people_ shut down the idea of him attending the Academy Awards. He still flies out to California for it, watches from the comfort of Julian’s living room as his boyfriend accepts the trophy. It hurts hearing Julian thank him when he can’t be there, absolutely destroys him when Julian’s smile wavers just slightly over his name.

Logan meets him in the driveway when he returns.

He’s pulling Julian into his arms before he’s fully out of the car, kissing him soundly.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs, “I told you you’d get it.”

“You did,” Julian smiles, “I just wish you could’ve been there with me.”

“I know. I tried. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Will it be different, do you think?” Julian asks, “When he isn’t President anymore?”

“I hope so,” Logan cups his face, kisses him again, “You know how much I hate being told what to do.”

He takes Julian’s arm, steering him into the house. Julian’s Oscar dangles loosely from one hand.

“I’m kind of surprised you listen to them all the time,” Julian remarks, “Usually you do the exact opposite of what your dad wants.”

Logan shrugs, “We’re actually getting along, lately. I know it sounds dumb, but I kind of don’t want to ruin it.”

“No, I get it. It just sucks that we can’t do whatever we want, you know?”

“Well I did swing _one_ thing,” Logan tells him, “I know it’s not the Academy Awards. And it’s still a few months away…but they said we can go to the Met Gala together.”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “The Met Gala, really?”

“Apparently it’s classy enough for them. Politicians have gone before.”

“…you know I’ve had Van Kamp working on my outfit for the Met since _November_ , right?” Julian asks, “It’s kind of a huge deal.”

“I’m sure he’ll be able to come up with something for me in time,” Logan says, “But I’ve seen the kinds of costumes he puts you in, and I’m absolutely not gonna be able to pull those off. What are the chances he’d be alright just making me a tux that coordinates with whatever you’re in?”

Julian hums a little, glances away the way he always does when he’s about to lie, “I’ll talk to him. It’ll be subtle. Promise.”

Three months later, Logan’s staring at his reflection in the mirror. 

There’s not an ounce of _subtly_ to this outfit, not even a little. Reed had presented him with a suit of shimmering, glittering gold. The shirt underneath is black, but every other part of his costume sparkles golden, from the bow tie around his neck to the tips of his shoes. 

“Julian?” Logan calls, hoping his boyfriend can hear him from the adjoining room, “Did you intentionally dress me up as an Oscar? Is this revenge for me missing the ceremony?”

He can hear Julian’s laughter ring out, hears his stylist chastise him for moving, “The theme is _Crown Jewels_ ,” Julian says, “It’s supposed to be glittery.”

“I don’t see any jewels,” Logan says, glancing back in the mirror, “Is there supposed to be jewelry for this, too?”

Julian doesn’t say anything, for a moment. Logan straightens his suit jacket, fixes a single stray lock of hair. He catches a flash of something out of the corner of his eye and turns.

His mouth falls open.

Logan’s suit may not have a jewel in sight, but Julian’s is _covered_ in them. The basis of the suit is black, but the fabric barely peeks through all the color. There are swirls of rubies, loops of sapphires, diamonds and peridot dotting his arms. Each jewel catches the light, casting Julian in an odd, colorful glow. His hair’s been left to wave around his ears, but his eyes have been lined in smudges of dark kohl.

On anyone else, the outfit would look ridiculous.

But Julian looks like a _god_.

“Oh,” Logan breaths, “I get it. You’re the jewel. Jules.”

Julian laughs, stepping forward. He gives Logan a slow once-over, looking more than pleased with how Reed’s carried out his request. 

“As romantic as that is,” he drawls, looping his arms around Logan’s neck, “That’s not actually what my intention was.”

“Oh?”

“I considered having you all in emerald,” Julian continues, “To bring out your eyes. But they’re pretty than the real thing. It’s your eyes that are the jewels.”

Logan grins, “That is horribly cheesy, you know that?”

“You’re the one who said _I_ was your jewel.”

“Seems like the kind of egocentric thing you’d do.”

Julian swats at his arm, “Be grateful, would you? I kept you in-theme without putting you in something like this.”

“Bet Reed was disappointed,” Logan says, “This might be the tamest Met outfit he’s ever designed.”

“Nah, he appreciated the break. He’s been busy with Kurt and Blaine’s wedding suits, apparently.”

There’s something in his voice, just then, and Logan sighs.

“You know you can’t be upset they’re getting married first,” he says, “I _did_ ask you.”

“In the worst possible way. That doesn’t count.”

“You will forgive me for that one day, right?”

“Oh, I forgave you,” Julian says, “But I’m nowhere close to mocking you over it. I’ll probably mention it in my actual wedding vows one day.”

“If you do that I will actually _sing_ my wedding vows,” Logan threatens, “Something really embarrassing. Might do a flash mob proposal, too.”

“No you won’t,” Julian rolls his eyes, “You’d do something super romantic and private. Set up a dinner on a private beach, or something.”

“Well if I’m so predictable, maybe I just won’t ask. You’ve got to pull some weight around here, after all.”

Julian scoffs, “Please. I would romance the _shit_ out of you for a proposal. You’d be crying so much you wouldn’t be able to answer.”

“Well I know it won’t be happening tonight. Pretty sure you’d destroy your knees trying to kneel in that.”

Julian glances down at his jewel-encrusted suit, “Hm. Shoulda thought about that earlier. There goes my idea of a limo blowjob.”

“Oh my god,” Logan laughs, “Let’s go, already. Maybe if you’re good _you’ll_ be the one getting a limo blowjob.”

Julian’s eyes sparkle, somehow even brighter than his outfit, “Lead the way, then.”


End file.
